


Burning Bright/Burning Out

by WynterRobin



Series: Batfamily ficlets [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Angst, Father son relationship, Ficlet, Gen, Hurt, PTSD, prose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-21 19:53:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11951457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WynterRobin/pseuds/WynterRobin
Summary: Those were the nights when he dreamed. Those were the nights when his demons peeled themselves from the shadows, surrounding him, ensnaring him. And he was back there again, trapped under six feet of his sins.Or, where Jason isn't as cool about having died as he pretends to be.





	Burning Bright/Burning Out

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this post](https://dcimaginesforever.tumblr.com/post/143628377881/jaybirbtodd-sasukehateblog-jaybirbtodd-so)

Jason Todd was a study in motion. He was a blur in the dark, a streak of red in the shadows, loud and brash and burning with a dark flame that struck terror into all who laid eyes upon him. 

He was a wraith of hate, of anger, an unstoppable force who left a trail of destruction in his wake wherever he went. Those were the good nights. When Jason blazed so bright he burned himself out, stumbled home and fell into the welcoming arms of darkness before his head even hit the pillow. 

The bad nights were hell. Those were the nights when it was quiet, peaceful, when the city’s lowlife were nowhere to be found and Jason was left to lay there on his grotty mattress and burn and burn and burn from the inside out.

Those were the nights when he dreamed. Those were the nights when his demons peeled themselves from the shadows, surrounding him, ensnaring him. And he was back there again, trapped under six feet of his sins. 

Dying had been easy compared to this. This was waking up, this was waking up to darkness, to pitch black space and air so thin he couldn’t breathe no matter how hard he gasped. 

This was screaming, screaming for Batman, for Bruce, for his father. This was crying, hot tears that could wash away the blood and dirt but not his sins, never his sins. 

And he burned. There was fire in his broken bones, fire in his collapsing lungs, fire in his skull and his hands as he scrambled and scraped and screamed for the man who had laid him in this earthen tomb. 

This was worse than dying. Dying had been a whisper, this was a scream. This was terror. This was fire. 

Those were the nights when Jason would wake, gasping and covered in sweat, the shape of his fathers name lodged in his throat like a cruel mockery. 

And he burned.


End file.
